


Film At Eleven

by gala_apples



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, M/M, Robbery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-15 13:16:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The local Summerlin news is usually boring, but sometimes it can be terrifyingly vague.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Film At Eleven

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?” Spencer shouts back, keeping his eyes focused on the screen. This happens a lot at six and then at eleven. His dad likes to think he gives a shit about the local news. Usually he just relies the information by shouting it, but something he needs Spencer to come watch whatever it is. Unless and until Spencer is called he’s not pausing Halo.

“What juice place does Brendon work in?”

“Tropical Smoothie Cafe. The one in the strip mall.”

“Do you remember the street?”

His dad sounds a bit frantic, which only amuses Spencer. “Yeah it’s Charleston. Why? Did it get shut down for health code violations? I wouldn’t be surprised, the stories Brendon’s told me. Don’t worry. I don’t drink anything from there.”

“Spencer I think you better come in here.” Spencer scowls then presses the button on the controller.

Standing in the middle of the living room he says again, “no seriously, I don’t drink anything there, don’t worry about-”

“When was the last time you talked to Brendon?”

Spencer’s a bit thrown off by his father interrupting him, he never does that. “I dunno, this morning I guess? I could check my phone?”

“Spence, the smoothie cafe on Charleston and Indigo was robbed today.”

“What?”

“It was the lead story. They just said the Smoothie Cafe was robbed by someone in a mask, and if anyone witnessed could they call in.” It’s weird to hear his mom pitching in, she always claims she’s not listening when it’s on. She never looks at the tv while it’s on, she only reads her book. It makes it worse, somehow, that she knows too.

“What?” It’s fucking Summerlin, that shit doesn’t happen in Summerlin.

His dad swallows. Spencer crosses his arms tightly. His father swallowing before speaking is never a good sign. “One of the employees got shot, Spencer. He’s in the hospital.”

“What?” God, is anything else ever going to come out of his mouth?

“They didn’t say Brendon Urie,” his mom is quick to say.

“They didn’t say any names. They couldn’t, it’s a privacy issue.” His dad returns.

“Everything could be okay.” Spencer shakes his head at his mother’s placating. “He might not have even worked today.”

“No, he did. He works every day, even if it’s just a partial shift. He needs to so he can pay rent.” Spencer shakes his head again, like the movement could make it all untrue. “I need to call them.”

His phone is in his room. he presses the power button on the Xbox with his toe as he dials, not wanting to hear the buzzing. The tv goes dark as it rings a second time. Spencer waits through Brendon’s five rings before hanging up. If he tries to leave a message he’ll probably get hysterical. Next on the list of people that can figure shit out is Ryan. It rings once, twice. On the third Ryan picks up. “Have you talked to Brendon today?”

“No. Why?”

“No reason.” If Ryan doesn’t know bringing it up is cruel. At least until Spencer for sure knows something is wrong.

“Spencer-”

“I’ve gotta go.”

“Spencer-”

“I just don’t want to talk.” He’s full of crap, Ryan knows he’s full of crap, and he knows Ryan knows. But dealing with Ryan being annoyed at him not sharing whatever Ryan thinks he’s hiding later is better than having to discuss this now. He hangs up Ryan, and ignores when the phone rings a second later.

He jams his phone in his pocket and walks back to the living room. His parents look at him oddly and Spencer realises they can hear it ringing from his pocket. He doesn’t take it out, instead asks “even if I call, they won’t tell me, right? They’re not allowed to.”

Their sorry looks confirm what he already knew. There’s only one thing left. Spencer grabs the keys from the bowl on the table and goes to get his shoes.

“Where are you going?” his mom asks, her hand gentle on his shoulder.

“The three of us have keys to Brendon’s. I need to be there when he gets back from the hospital.” God, why the fuck won’t his shoes tie. Fucking piece of shit Hot Topic shoelaces what the fuck won’t even fucking tie like- Spencer’s mental diatribe comes to a halt as the keys are tugged off where the ring is hanging on his pinky.

“I’ll drive.” Spencer looks at her. She’s not asking any of the questions he knows she’s dying to, like what he expects to accomplish waiting there, or if there’s anything to eat there, or if he’s going to go to school tomorrow. She just walks to the door and turns the knob, holding it open for him. He looks again at his retarded shoes and thinks screw it. He curls his toes inside the runners so they don’t slide off and climbs into the passenger seat. His thoughts on the way are in no way productive or helpful. It’s so fucked up to think that the Uries might not even care if Brendon’s in the hospital. They’ve been shitty enough parents to completely ignore him because he made a difference choice, parents aren’t supposed to stop loving you -privately Spencer knows Ryan’s not an exception, Mr Ross doesn’t count as stopped loving when there’s no proof he ever did- but if they ignore this too, Brendon will be crushed forever. And shit, how much does removing a bullet cost? If Brendon is thousands of dollars in debt he’ll never be able to take time off work when they get a shitty van tour going. He’ll have gambled the relationship with his family for nothing.

His mom is halfway to Brendon’s and Spencer’s half way to a panic attack when his phone rings. Oh God, what if he’s next of kin because Brendon got excommunicated or whatever it’s called for Mormons? What if he has to decide whether to pull the plug! He fumbles it out of his pocket and opens it.

“Hello?” he says shakily.

“Fuck you.” It’s Ryan, and he’s not fucking happy.

“What?”

“I know you’re going over there, come pick me up.”

“Ryan I-”

“Pick me up Spencer.”

There’s no way he’s going to win this argument, and he doesn’t really want to either. Screw being stoic and not being cruel by dragging Ryan into a situation he can’t change. “Mom, we need to stop at Ryan’s.”

At any other time, Spencer’d make a joke about ‘who are you, what did you do with my mom’. For now he’s just grateful that she’s making the U-turn. When she stops in front of the Ross house, Spencer gets out and hugs Ryan, who’s waiting at the end of the cracked sidewalk. He doesn’t know how he figured it out, besides that Ryan is brilliant, but it doesn’t matter. Ryan claims the left back seat and Spencer gets into the right. Ryan leans his head on Spencer’s for the rest of the drive.

Brendon lives on the third floor of the run down building. Normally Spencer’s lazy enough to wait for the elevator. It’s not like he’s doing anything with those thirty seconds of his life that he can’t get back. And Ryan and Brent claim that the stairs have a smell. Spencer doesn’t smell it, but he figures it’s attached to the way the stairwell always seems damp. None of it stops him from sprinting up the stairs as fast as he can. It’s not like there’s a reason for it, he can’t make Brendon come home any faster by being in his apartment earlier. But it feels wrong to wait around and not do _anything_.

Ryan gets his key out of his pocket faster, and by that virtue he gets to open the door, even though he was behind Spencer on the stairs. Short as he is, he still impedes Spencer’s view, and the ‘oh’ he mutters is enough to push Ryan forward and cause the door to slam against the inside of the room.

He understands Ryan’s ‘oh’ immediately, and goes from relieved to shocked to pissed in record time. Brendon’s under his blue polka dotted thrift store comforter, the thud of the door into the wall making him wake up and blearily rub his eyes. “Guys?”

“Why didn’t you answer your phone!” The entire forty minutes of terror could have been completely avoided had he fucking picked up his cell!

“I’m sorry,” Brendon murmurs, voice still heavy with sleep.

Spencer looks to Ryan, willing to give him a turn at ranting before he gives his go. Ryan’s arms are crossed tightly on his chest, and Spencer knows that posture means he wouldn’t talk for a million dollars. All the more for him then. “You! You can’t do that! You can’t just not answer.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, this time with a lot of bite to it. “I didn’t realise there was a etiquette code for being robbed.”

“Fuck you! I thought you were dead! Ryan thought you were dead. My fucking parents thought you were dead!”

Brendon stands, tugs the hiked up leg of his boxers back down. “Killed putting fruit in a blender? What a noble end.”

Spencer has had a fucking ton of practice with coping mechanisms thanks to Mr Ross, and normally he’d just go with it, let people manage the way they need to. But Spencer’s in the middle of mentally collapsing too and his _that’s not funny_ is more of a shriek then he’d normally be willing to admit to. “It’s not fucking funny,” he repeats, slightly quieter.

“Sort of is. It would prove my parents right, anyway. It would be divine intervention.”

At that Spencer and Ryan both move in. Spencer’s not sure Ryan will be capable of hurting him, thanks to Mr Ross Ryan can’t really do anything aggressive, but Spencer plans on making up for it. Brendon needs a good hard punch for that bullshit.

Ryan doesn’t hit him. Ryan grabs him by both forearms and kisses him. It’s not like he didn’t know Ryan was into that sort of thing, when Spencer had finally gathered the courage to tell Trevor and Ryan he was bisexual, Trevor had shrugged and Ryan had said ‘me too’. Still, just because they are doesn’t mean that Brendon is. And what’s more, how can Ryan do something loving when Brendon’s such a fucking asshole?

Ryan pulls away, and from as close as Spencer is standing, he can see Brendon start to hyperventilate. And maybe Spencer gets it. If he says the wrong thing, Ryan will just correct him anyway. “Brendon, there is no God. That fucker wasn’t sent from heaven to smite you. Drinking coffee isn’t wrong, liking rock isn’t wrong. And I dunno if you’re even gay, but if you liked what Ryan just did that’s not wrong either. There’s nobody out there floating to judge you.”

“Spencer?” His voice is quavering, and Spencer moves in, curling his arm around Ryan to pull him in tighter, closer, until they’re a triangle. Screw God, they can be each other’s holy trinity.


End file.
